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COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY
THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY
Published September, 1906
praaSHSSHSSBESHS?
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To my classmate and friend
2ttp0fom»»0fl0mit
Who exemplifies to a remarkable degree
in character and conduct the
principles here set forth
This
volume is affectionately
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©jwt Srorrt 0f Jfazarrt ly
FIRST LETTER
On Board the S. S. " Aurora,"
Mediterranean Sea, April, 1904.
MY DEAR THOMAS— Hold-
ing to the plan agreed upon
by us, I write to you my first
letter. If my hand-writing appears
more illegible than usual, know
that this is due to excitement; be-
cause our captain, from the bridge,
has told us that the dark line on
the eastern horizon is, — as we sus-
pected,— the coast of Palestine,
1 < The Holy Land. "
I frankly avow (more readily than
would you?) that I am agitated by
the news, although not surprised, for
we have been eagerly expecting it
all the afternoon ; but the imminent
fact that our feet are soon to tread
the earth which He trod, that we
shall look upon hills and valleys
whereon His holy eyes rested, —
a hr (Dprn Smrt of
this fills me with a vibrant joy
which is half a pain.
I can make out, in the distance,
at present, only a dim, gray line,
stretching from north to south, di-
viding the restless, sparkling blue
of the fitful sea from the calm,
cloud-flecked blue of the great con-
cave above.
With my strong field-glass (for
which again, dear Thomas, my
warm thanks) I can faintly dis-
cern a thin, yellow line, edging the
broad, gray band at the bottom.
That, I am told, is the belt of sand
stretching, almost in an unbroken
line, along this low, level coast,
from Beirut to Suez.
Already most of my fellow-pas-
sengers are making ready the lit-
tle baggage which they will carry
ashore; but I linger here on deck,
tasting, like an epicure, this experi-
ence to which I have long and ea-
gerly looked forward. I wonder if
you would do the same if you were
here. My situation reminds me of
Wtp (§p?tt l$?rrei of
the days, when, as boys of ten, you
and I bought that marshmallow-
paste at the corner candy-store.
Many a day, with pockets empty, I
had looked longingly at those sweet-
meats as I passed, and had tasted
them again and again in my fancy ;
but a day came when you and I
marched boldly, commandingly in,
and bought a handful. Alas, when
the first velvety morsel lay in my
mouth, I was so absorbed with the
purely mental experience of pos-
session that this quite extinguished
the physical sensation of the taste ;
my self-consciousness shut me from
my pleasure.
That is my condition at this mo-
ment of writing; yet I brand the
mood as morbid ; and I believe that
the bustle and activity of landing
and exploring will consign this
momentary obsession to the dark
limbo where it belongs.
I am thinking, at this moment, of
the ominous words of a fellow-
passenger who left us at Naples ; he
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was a thin-lipped man with a cler-
ical collar and with the shrewdest
of black eyes ; when I casually men-
tioned my purpose of visiting the
Holy Land, he dryly remarked that
he would not travel there even if
his expenses were paid by another
person; and he added, as I looked
inquiringly at him, that he did
not wish to be " disillusioned,"
that he had certain conceptions of
the land of our Saviour's birth,
and he did not wish to imperil
them.
Think of that, O Thomas, thou
stern devotee of Truth! I confess
that even I, — with all my attach-
ment to the revered past, and with
my dread of bare metallic facts, —
was repelled by the man's lack
of conscience, and his spiritual
Epicureanism. No! whatever the
impending week shall bring me,
Thomas, I shall accept, — yes, wel-
come it, trying all the spirits,
weighing all the evidence, and set-
ting down faithfully and unreserv-
QUje ODjmt
edly, in these letters, my experi-
ences and my reflections.
Again I have risen from my
steamer-chair, and taken one more
look at the shore line. It is growing
clearer; the yellow belt of sand is
more distinct; the blue-gray band
above it is now roughened by ridges
and valleys, and the sky-line has
become serrated where hill-tops
rise into the blue.
O Thomas, my dear friend, my
" faithful Achates," think of it!
Think of it ! I am really close upon
entering "The Holy Land." My
heart beats excitedly even as I
write the words. The Blessed Land
of which we have studied, and
talked, and about which I have
often dreamed, — that wondrous
land lies in the near distance beck-
oning to me. How the sweet names,
"Jordan," "Hebron," "City of
David," "Nazareth Town,"— how
they throng my mind, and arouse
memories and hopes which dim my
eyes with tears! I have dreamed,
5
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many a time, of the hills and val-
leys of the Promised Land; shall
I now find it, in reality, "A land
flowing with milk and honey?" Or
will it prove a wilderness only,
where my soul shall wander and
hunger, and my faith in God fade
and die ?
Nearer and nearer we draw to the
shore. Our great steamship has
slowed to half-speed ; with lessened
vibration, we glide forward, softly,
silently, and I might think that we
were stationary, and the unfolding
mass ten miles away was gliding
toward us.
The sea about us has changed in
color from a deep blue to a dull yel-
low, and the great ship seems to
move cautiously, as if scenting dan-
ger, and reluctant to move nearer
the land. I wonder, Thomas, if you
will understand, — and I know you
will; you always did understand
me, in my vagaries and fancies, al-
though you never grew hysterical
over them, as I almost grew, — yes,
6
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you will understand me when I say
that the fact of my being so near
the land of Palestine has trans-
formed, — to my senses, — every-
thing about me. An hour ago, be-
fore I learned that we were coming
in toward the shore, our ship and
all its belongings, together with the
sky and its clouds, and likewise the
sea-birds hovering above us, — all
were enveloped in one aura of the
ocean; one day was like another;
each day was like every day on
every ocean ; but now that we have
learned about the nearness of
Palestine, suddenly the aura has
changed; all things, — sky, clouds,
sea, ship, and even passengers,
all have become transformed; or,
rather ought I to say that the me-
dium through which I see them has
changed; yes, the very atmosphere
of this new zone seems freighted
with the breath of the East; I
can almost believe, — but resolutely
will not, O Thomas, — that already
I can detect, in the balmy air,
spices of Araby and odors of far
Cathay.
Ah, how remote seem Naples and
Genoa! The experiences of even
yesterday and this morning shrink
away, ignored and despised, in
the presence of this new light and
beauty. How much of this moment's
experience think you, Thomas, is
genuine and warranted? I wonder
if I would have felt this transfor-
mation had I not been told the fact
of our proximity to shore. That
fact, that announcement, I fear,
was the philosopher's stone which
has worked its magic on sky and
sea and ship. Nay, it has more
worked its magic on my soul; for
after all, Thomas, I perceive, as I
close my letter and prepare to land,
that when once the soul is changed,
by a new element of hope or faith
or love, then the whole world al-
ters. As you and I, in our pro-
tracted nocturnal debates, have
often agreed, — it is the subjective
element in life, and not the objec-
»Si5d!n5flH!ri!5i!H^^
tive, which is the powerful factor
in human destiny ; "the life is more
than meat"; and "to him who
seeks, — and finds, — the kingdom of
God, all things are added."
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SECOND LETTER
Grand Hotel,
Jerusalem, Palestine.
MY DEAR THOMAS,— I have
really broken bread, in Jeru-
salem; or, to say it in more
prosaic words, I have just dined at
the "Table d'Hote," of this hotel,
and now write you about the ex-
perience of this my first day in
"The Holy Land."
We lay at anchor, off. Jaffa, last
night ; and, early this morning, we
came ashore, in the customary reck-
less and perilous fashion. I wish
you would get a guide-book (Bae-
decker is as good as any) and read
it carefully, in connection with
these letters ; K has one, of the
date 1899; that will serve perfect-
ly well; a period of five years is
a mere augeriblicJc in the sluggish
procession of these Eastern cen-
turies.
Assuming now that you have read
the usual account of the landing at
10
Jaffa, I will say that I am thankful
I had the average athletic training
of boyhood, else my body might
now be reposing at the bottom of
the Mediterranean, or I might have
been ignominiously fished out of
the water by a rusty boat-hook in
the sinewy brown hands of a red-
shirted Turkish boatman.
I speak, in passing, of the charm-
ing view of Jaffa which we had, as
we lay at anchor, off shore. The
houses, — some gray, some pink,
some pale blue, — nestled, in an
irregular picturesque mass near the
beach, and with a glass I could
make out human beings upon the
flat roofs, — a strong reminder of so
many scenes and episodes in Bible
history ; perhaps the most convinc-
ing Oriental touch was given to the
picture by the tall date-palms, each
with its bare, round trunk, and with
leafy crown bestowing a circular
benediction upon the highways and
homes. "Exactly like the pictures,"
said one and another tourist, gaz-
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ing from the steamer's decK, at the
suggestive scene.
From the guide-book, Thomas,
you have learned that Jaffa is the
modern name of the Scriptural
Joppa ; and you have read what is
said about the recreant Jonah and
the visionary Peter. I leave the
preacher of Nineveh in your hands ;
but regarding Peter I say that, al-
though the house which is shown to
the tourist as the home of "Simon
a Tanner" cannot possibly be over
three hundred years old, yet the
"tanner-quarter" of the town still
occupies substantially the same site
it occupied two thousand years ago ;
so that the account of the vision of
the beasts "clean and unclean,"
may be soundly rooted in fact, and
may need only slight psychological
interpretation.
It may seem singular to you,
Thomas, and almost absurd, but the
truth is that the objects which most
impressed me at Jaffa, this fore-
noon, were the camels; "the lordly
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camels" seemed their proper title;
I am told that they are of an un-
usually large and powerful breed;
certainly, they are most majestic
and impressive; and, as I have no
reasonable doubt of the record con-
cerning the building of Solomon's
Temple, and the transportation of
cedar logs from Tyre and Sidon, I
fondly fancied, gazing upon these
magnificent camels of Jaffa, that it
was their ancestors who were hon-
ored with the task of bearing the
great tree-trunks from the sea up
to the "City of David." Certainly
the haughty creatures seemed con-
scious of some superiority over or-
dinary animals, both quadrupeds
and bipeds.
Of course, dear old school-mate,
you will understand that since I am
really seeking to come nearer the
personality of the Historic Jesus,
I was not so vividly interested in
Jaffa as I shall be in Jerusalem
and other places which He is known
to have frequented; I fancy that
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pur Master may never have set foot
in Jaffa ; certainly there is little or
no evidence for his having done so ;
and here let me remind you, — al-
though I hardly need do it, for
you know my position in this mat-
ter so well, — let me interpolate,
concerning the theological doctrine
of "The Essential Christ," that I
shall have nothing to say of it; it
interests me little; that tenet may
become, on the one hand, an inspir-
ing mystical ideal, or, on the other
hand, it may sink, — and often does,
— into a mere chameleon of faith,
taking on various hues, and baffling
earnest hearts. No, it is "Jesus of
Nazareth" whom I seek; it is the
"Chrestus" of the Roman histori-
ans for whom I search; I am led
by the hope of making more real
to myself (and possibly to you,
Thomas,) that veritable person,—
spirit clothed in flesh, — who walked
and talked, who served and suf-
fered, here amid these rocky hills
and verdant valleys, two thousand
•« ••
14
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years ago. But this is a digres-
sion.
I can understand, Thomas, since
an experience of mine this morn-
ing, how easily the guides of this
country are led into deceit. I no-
ticed a fellow-tourist, as he came
up to the market- well in Jaffa;
I heard him ask his guide, or
dragoman, what interesting events
were connected with it; and when
the guide, — a mere lad of sixteen,
— replied ingenuously that he knew
none, the tourist was plainly dis-
appointed ; he had expended a great
deal of money to take this jour-
ney to Palestine, and he evidently
felt defrauded unless stories and
legends were forthcoming at every
step. I suspect that a more sophisti-
cated guide than his would have re-
sponded to his evident wish by un-
folding some narrative, more or
less veracious, and would have
" pleased " his patron at all costs,
as these Eastern people like well
to do.
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Omitting many points of descrip-
tion, and referring you again to the
guide-book, I hold myself to the
distinctly human and personal ele-
ments of my day's experience. I
know, so well, dear Thomas, that
you wish to check me, again and
again, and ask, "How did you feel
about that new point of view?"
Or, "What was the effect, on your
religious nature, of that piece of
information?" Yes, be assured that
I bear always in mind your attitude
of inquiry, and I examine and re-
port and infer, always, in the light
of our many midnight vigils over
Strauss and Edersheim, Hartmann
and Wernle.
On the exceedingly slow journey,
by rail, this afternoon, from Jaffa,
our train stopped altogether, as it
wound among the hills, and the pas-
sengers alighted at a bare little sta-
tion, and walked up and down,
beside the cars. Nearly all the pas-
sengers were Europeans, and, — at
least nominally, — Christians; dur-
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ing that hour, although on soil gov-
erned by Moslems, the followers of
the lonely Nazarene were in the
large majority ; so that I was deep-
ly impressed at seeing a Turk then
and there engage in his devotions ;
he knelt upon a little patch of
grass, faced toward Mecca, and
went through the prescribed pos-
turings and prayers, as if quite
oblivious of the restless Christians,
around him, who jostled one an-
other, and talked loudly and impa-
tiently, and sometimes nearly stum-
bled over his bowed body.
I think that most of us felt, at first
sight of his religious absorption, a
prompt admiration for his devotion
and his disregard of curious spec-
tators. But my reflections did not
stop there; I was ready enough to
credit the man with sincerity and
fervor and courage; but I asked
myself if we tourists did not err in
think this is true; Thomas, that re-
&
ligions, — like individuals, — vary
greatly in the degree of ' ' intimacy, ' '
(as the French say), of soul-reve-
lation which they express in their
devotions. Certainly, you and I re-
member, among our friends, per-
sons who spoke easily, naturally, —
even casually and lightly, — of their
religious experiences; and other
persons there were who revealed
their convictions and aspirations
only with reluctance, and after a
marked struggle with their sensi-
tive natures.
Have you not observed these two
classes of religious people? I am
not sure, but I think that you and
I both belong among the more sen-
sitive and less expressive group.
My old friend and former college
instructor, Dr. William James, has
divided religious people into the
two classes of the "Once Born"
and "Twice Born"; and that clas-
sification at least roughly expresses
the difference among people which
I have in mind; the "Once Born"
18
jWSHHSZHHSSHZHSZffi^
devout persons speak easily and
without self - consciousness about
their relations to the Supreme Be-
ing; their words and acts of devo-
tion seem natural to them, and seek
no protective concealment ; but the
" Twice Born" repress, and stam-
mer, and reveal their inmost re-
grets and longings only under pres-
sure, and then with a reluctance
which amounts almost to pain. As
these two classes of devout persons
have become more and more dis-
tinct to me, I have recalled the
story of Adam and Eve, at first
walking naked and unashamed in
the Garden of Eden, and again
walking, timid and self-conscious,
poorly protected by their garments
of leaves.
So I ask myself, "Is it a deeper
sense of sinfulness which lies back
of the sensitiveness of the ' Twice
Born?' or, is their perception of
the perfection of God keener and
more exalted than is that of the
calmer 'Once Born?' Does the re-
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ligious experience commonly called
* conversion7 bear upon the differ-
ence between these two classes ?"
I know of no ultimate analysis of
these two types of religious na-
tures ; but the kneeling, murmuring
Moslem made me conjecture afresh ;
and I think that many of us who
observed him, had we felt a degree
of devotion great enough to compel
us to our knees and prayers, in that
conspicuous place, could not have
risen, a few minutes later, as did
he, with calm countenance, ready to
chat on the idle interests of the
journey.
20
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THIRD LETTER
Grand Hotel,
Jerusalem, Palestine.
MY DEAR THOMAS, --One
long, full day I have been
in this strange yet familiar
city ; and to-night my mind is more
chaotic than when yesterday I came
through the Jaffa gate. I started on
my round of sightseeing early this
morning. During the first hour I
walked or rode, in a state of exalta-
tion; I said to myself, repeatedly,
"I am in Jerusalem; I am actually
walking upon the ground which
His sacred feet have pressed." And
at times, when I looked down over
an extensive view of the narrow
streets and flat-roofed houses, my
memory of Jerusalem, "The Holy
City," which often I had imaged
in my fancy, — flashed across my
field of thought, and for a moment
obscured the prosaic and even sor-
did scene before me. But, gradually
21
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through the day, my vividly fancied
"Jerusalem," the "Holy City" of
my dreams, has become dim, as the
coarser, harder reality around me
has strengthened; and to-night I
confess frankly to myself and to
you, O " Alter Ego," that I recall
the "Via Dolorosa," and "The
Temple Area," and "The Church
of the Holy Sepulchre," with no
more excitement than I recall the
"Bay of Naples" or the "Rock of
Gibraltar."
You must not wonder, Thomas, at
this sudden ebbing of my enthusi-
asm ; certainly you would not won-
der, if you were here. I recall, as I
write, the remark of my sophisti-
cated clerical friend on the steamer,
who would not visit Palestine, "be-
cause he did not wish to be disillu-
sioned." I can hardly say that I
have suffered quite "disillusion";
but the readiness of guides to point
out "holy sites" and to gabble
Scripture, and the shock of seeing
Turkish soldiers keeping order and
22
peace at the Church of the Holy
Sepulchre, — the very centre and
focus of adoring Christendom, yet
frequently, in the recent past, a
scene of riot and slaughter among
rival devotees of the "Meek and
Lowly Jesus, " — these things have
made a sorrowful impression upon
me. I can understand that the com-
mon people, — the habitual resi-
dents of the city, — should be led to
traffic in relics, and to profit by the
blind emotions of pilgrims; but
when I learned that the priests,
Latin, Greek, Armenian, who min-
ister at the altar of this most sacred
shrine, are always in danger of
breaking out into acts of violence
and bloodshed, one against another,
I seemed sadly to see the long
toiling centuries of what I had
called "Christian progress," shut-
ting back into themselves like the
sections of a telescope; and I felt,
for a moment, as if I might as prop-
erly and profitably visit and adore
the shrines at Athens or Mecca, as
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the shrine of the Holy Sepulchre at
Jerusalem.
I fear, Thomas, that I am, — as
you have told me, — an inveterate
hero- worshipper ; for I now see
that I held, in my heart, as I came
to this traditional scene of Christ's
passion, the feeling that here I
would find not only objects and
places which would satisfy the sen-
timents which I brought to them,
but that the human beings whose
high privilege it was to minister
here would be nobler in mien and
more elevated in spirit than Chris-
tian priests and ministers else-
where; but their faces seem hard
and sottish, and although their
brilliant raiment gives them dis-
tinction, when seen at a distance,
they seem commonplace indeed,
when off duty ; and I observed one
of their leaders, at a side door, eat-
ing and drinking in a most slovenly
and gluttonous fashion, immedi-
ately after I had seen him moving,
with impressive air and gestures,
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before the altar in the Chapel of
Saint Helena.
As for the site of the Temple, —
"The Temple Area," it is called,—
I found little there which moved
me. The insolent Turkish attend-
ants seemed to merely tolerate
Christian visitors ; and while I was
struck by their greedy clamor for
larger and larger fees, I could boast
myself but little, as of a superior
cult, when I recalled the "Commer-
• T 11 1 • 1 • -11 J
cialism " which is so widely and
deeply permeating the Christian
churches of America.
I think, Thomas, as I look back
over this eventful day, that what
most deeply impressed me, was the
reality and intensity of the grief
manifested at "The Jews' Wail-
ing Place." You have read about
it, and have seen the familiar pho-
tographs. The original is far more
impressive than picture or descrip-
tion; and I think that you would
have shared with me, — O Thomas,
hater of ceremonials and doubter of
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Scriptural authorities, — the sym-
pathetic pain I felt for this op-
pressed and despised people, who
here mourn, with tears and groans,
the downfall of their religious pow-
er, even after many centuries have
faded away, in a twilight of gloom
and a midnight of pain.
As I looked upon them, dim and
picturesque amid the shadows of
their Sabbath Eve, and noted their
fervent ejaculatory prayers, I
gained new insight into the pas-
sionate religious temper of the
1 ' People of Israel"; and I under-
stood for a moment, standing there
amid the deepening darkness, how
the providence of God, on its er-
rand of merciful revelation to man,
found a more direct and less ob-
structed channel through the pure
fervent heart of a " Son of David,"
a descendant of Moses and Elijah,
than it could find through the
hysterical priestesses of Dodona or
the perfunctory augurs of Rome.
In this real approach to ' ' The His-
26
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toric Jesus," slight though it is, I
believe you will give me your sym-
pathy. If you had been with me, to-
day, in my tour of the city, you
would have distrusted the "Holy
Sites," and scorned the pompous
ecclesiasticism, even more prompt-
ly and boldly than have I ; but this
suggestion of a purely racial poten-
tiality I think you would have been
quick to feel; for its significance
lies in its harmony with that nat-
ural unfolding of lower into higher,
in human affairs, — as in affairs
cosmic and material, — which must
always attract the thoughtful, sin-
cere man of the twentieth century,
trained to scientific ways of seek-
ing truth.
I have not forgotten, Thomas,
your former admiration for Buckle
and his theories of civilization ; and
although I never could give to his
views the almost unqualified assent
which you gave, I firmly believe, —
as the Greeks said, — that "Nature
does not advance by leaps" ; a great
27
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religious leader is not likely to be
born out of a merely military or
speculative people; and, in my
search here in sordid Jerusalem, in
priest-ridden, Turk-ruled Pales-
tine, for "Him who spake with
authority," I have been convinced
that the Nation of Israel, — individ-
ual, devout, passionate, — was such
a people as might give birth to that
"Holy One," whose most sacred
shrines have been consecrated hu-
man wills, and whose truest tem-
ples have been aspiring human
hearts.
Therefore, O Thomas, although it
will be with a feeling of disappoint-
ment that I shall leave Jerusalem,
in a few days, I shall depart with
at least this attained; I shall have
advanced in my quest by at least
one step, — a step of negation and
elimination; I have not come into
the expected glory of His presence ;
I have not quite felt the thrill of
life which could result from touch-
ing the hem of His garment ; but I
28
Qtty* GDjmt &m*t of Nazarrtly
have seen, assuredly, what He saw,
and walked where He walked. And
when I leave here, for Galilee, I
shall depart, feeling that I have
found the base, the pedestal, of my
statue ; and the statue itself, — shall
I find that in Nazareth, the scene
of Christ's childhood and unfold-
ing youth ?
Something leads me to believe that
I shall come nearer to Him, — my
heart's ideal, — there in the peace
and serenity of unchanged Naza-
reth, than amid the superstition
and greed of this half-pagan city.
As I close this letter, dear Thomas,
the words of desolate, despairing
Mary of Magdala recur to me, and
arouse an echo in my disappointed,
yet not hopeless, heart : "They have
taken away my Lord, and I know
not where they have laid him."
FOURTH LETTER
Nazareth,
Casa Nuova Hospice.
THOMAS, DEAR FRIEND,— I
am glad that I can write to
you out of more joyousness
of spirit than I last wrote. When I
left Jerusalem I felt depressed, —
not only at my own failure to real-
lize, in that city, the ideals which
my devout fancy had created, but I
regretted being obliged to send to
you, my silent absent partner in this
pilgrimage, so futile and gloomy a
report. But I resolved that I would
hold unflinchingly, to our serious,
even solemn agreement, in letter
and in spirit ; and the unsatisfying
result you have seen.
This letter, however, should bring
you some joy in the reading, as it
affords me much joy in the writing.
Know, then, that I have found my
journey into the interior of the
country, from Haifa, a balm to my
soul and a stimulus to my hopes.
30
pE5H5S2SSSaS2ffiS^^
ut
The roadstead at Haifa is quite as
Baedecker describes it, — no real
harbor, but only a curve in the
sandy shore, sheltering a strag-
gling, flat-roofed Eastern town,
and with the mighty promontory
of Mount Carmel towering above.
My hasty but pleasant visit to the
monastery I will tell you about,
when I return. I am keeping notes
of many incidents and scenes which
I will not allow to intrude into
these letters.
On the journey over, from Haifa,
I found that the places whose
names had long been familiar to
me awoke far more satisfying emo-
tions in my breast than did the
" sacred sites'7 in Jerusalem. I be-
lieve that the reason is because
"Carmel," and "The Brook Kish-
on," and "The Plain of Esdrae-
lon," and "Mount Hermon," — all
being parts of physical nature, —
have suffered little or no debasing
change at human hands,— devout
or profane. At Jerusalem the ques-
tion of " identity" or " authentic-
ity" turned upon some street or
house or cave, some object which
was quite at the mercy of man's
transforming power ; the Mount of
Olives with Gethsemane, and the
"Real Hill of Calvary" I find re-
main most prominent in my mem-
ory, out of all the objects and scenes
I have looked upon thus far. But I
must now class with them Carmel
and Hermon and these others ; for
surely such features of physical
nature have not materially altered
since our Saviour's time; and I
have no doubt that these sacred
elements of the Syrian landscape,
upon which my eyes have rested,
were really gazed upon by our dear
Lord, as He led and taught His
disciples.
The journey across the fertile
plains, from Haifa, was made by
me in an easy day's journey. I am
glad that I travelled slowly, dream-
ily, yet with my senses open to all
impressions ; for the recollection of
Si *(1V •>••.• '.HJ ••>>• -. !»• "U
32
Hf
that pleasant journey will always
remain a bright panoramic picture
in my heart. I could hardly repress
the feeling, — and I did not wholly
care to, Thomas, — that Nature her-
self was giving me glad welcome
into the land of Galilee; the sky
was as clear and blue as a great
concave sapphire, until the after-
noon, when a thin fleece of cloud
overspread it and softened it to
opalescence. The whole country
seemed to rejoice in its abundant
verdure; and the bright flowers,
— anemones, poppies, roses, and
tulips, — growing in wild luxuri-
ance, appeared to sing their glad-
ness, in exuberant emulation of the
birds, — finches, thrushes, and the
tuneful black-bird of Syria, — which
filled the air with rapt, exultant
melody. Both the beauty of the
flower-strewn plain and the beauty
of the feathered sprites of the air
appealed strongly to me ; both birds
and blossoms seemed, — to my quick-
ened fancy, — to spring from some
rejoicing Mother-Heart of Nature;
and I took the day's experience as
a happy augury of what was before
me, in Nazareth.
Let me, however, interpolate this ;
— I said, a moment ago, that "I
had no doubt," etc. Alas, I should
amend and write, "no reasonable
doubt"; for I confess that I am
conscious of a sombre mood of
doubt, a veritable canker of dis-
trust, which was engendered in my
soul by those days of disappoint-
ment in and near Jerusalem. I
realize, more than ever, the truth
which you and I reached, in one of
our talks, that human doubt, espe-
cially on religious themes, is often
a condition, rather than a convic-
tion; I recall your illustration of
the cup of quassia-wood, which em-
bitters any water, however sweet,
that is poured into it. That, I fear,
is in a degree, the abnormal condi-
tion of my mind, at present; but
earnest activity, — mental and phys-
ical,— is the remedy, as we agreed,
34
Wp GDjwt
of Efazaret ly
/for the mood of doubt ; and I shall
not fail to apply it.
I have already seen enough, dear
Thomas, since I arrived at this
peaceful little hamlet of Nazareth,
to make me feel that here I shall
come, — yes, I have already come, —
nearer to the real Jesus than was
possible in Jerusalem. The houses
of the village may not be identically
the same as those in which Joseph
and Mary and their relatives and
neighbors lived, but they are sub-
stantially the same in form and
location; the narrow streets and
narrower lanes, winding up and
down and around the concave of
the town, probably are much as
they were when He walked through
them, bestowing blessings by His
very glance. There has been no suf-
ficient cause for the alteration of
the original features of the town;
Nazareth has not been compelled to
pass through the social convulsions
and political cataclysms which have
blasted and reshaped, have razed
rfl
ad;
-.y^>.L
and rebuilt the Holy City; Naza-
reth lies in her oval valley, like a
babe in its cradle, smiling up at the
cloud-flecked heavens and the star-
strewn firmament ; and her obscur-
ity has been her armor, her insig-
nificance has preserved her pristine
beauty and innocence.
I am hopeless about priest-haunt-
ed, war-desolated Jerusalem; I see
no possibility of ever tracing the
palimpsest record of the Christ,
beneath the writing on her scrawled
and blood-stained pages; but I
fondly dream, Thomas, as I write,
here on a tiny balcony of this Fran-
ciscan Monastery, that sometime,
when the world shall be ready,
when it shall have fulfilled its days
of waiting, there shall be reared,
here in this valley, here in this
cradle of Christianity, a fitting tem-
ple to the world's Messiah, where
there shall be no flaunting of
priestly robes, no profanation by
greedy relic-venders, nor even the
light of a candle or the smoke of
irf -Nazarrtlj
incense ; but, into its silent simplic-
ity and dignity, devout men and
women shall come, from all lands ;
and, in grateful silent communion
with the Sacred Past, they shall
re-create, each for himself, that
blessed Life ; and they shall purify
their souls by communion with that
Eternal and Ever-Present Spirit,
who is our Father, as He was also
"God the Father of our Lord Jesus
Christ."
&
??:
•-
•-'
VS
:
FIFTH LETTER
Nazareth,
" On the Mountain, Apart."
MY DEAR THOMAS —I am
sitting here on this hill-top,
back of the village, upon a
ledge of rock, which His holy feet
may have actually pressed. I will
trust you enough to tell you that
when I first came up here, I kneeled
and kissed the rough rock, and
my beating heart made itself felt
against my side.
I am alone, Thomas, yet in the
midst of my outer solitude I find
that my soul entertains a guest; I
do feel, Thomas, here on this rocky
height, here upon this " mountain,"
up into which He was wont to "go
apart to pray," that the centuries
suffer subsidence, so that with "the
inner eye" I look across them, and
with quickened fancy I behold
Him, I welcome Him, I sit at His
feet and learn of Him, — yes, I, the
most unworthy of disciples.
38
Here, upon this hill-top, He must
have come, often, in His childhood
and youth. There are those who tell
us that He was not born at Bethle-
hem, but was born here ; I contend
with no critic, I waive minor points
of biography; but surely it was
here in Nazareth that the child
Jesus passed through those im-
pressionable and inquiring years
wherein, — be it as a flash of illu-
mination, or gradually like a softly
increasing strain of music, — some-
how the conscious sense of "God
the Father" came to Him, and He
j
was numbered among the prophets,
and His high mission opened unto
Him.
Let priests, — Latin, Greek and
Armenian, — quarrel and rant, at
Jerusalem and Bethlehem ! Here in
Nazareth, set in the midst of her
fourteen hills, we come close to
the marvellous incarnated Reality
which lies back of all Christian his-
tory and tradition. Let critics pore
over manuscripts, and prelates
39
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>K SS JB« £& ffi
i!^52SHCTaoaanai::o^aaOCTOC5t"3I"!O£"iac3c;i':;ii;
thunder their decrees! — Here was
"The Christ" born, here Jesus
"came to himself"; here the Man,
Christ Jesus, first knew Himself as
Son of God ; the physical birth was
not of chief importance, for mill-
ions have entered this earthly life
as did He ; but the birth which was
of the spirit, — that was unique,
without precedent; and the place
where that occurred, though un-
marked by memorial, though un-
known to the multitude, must al-
ways be, — "Holy ground."
My dear Thomas, sitting here as
I do, far from you and far from the
restless, eager life of Europe and
America, I feel more strongly than
ever, that our Western life is too
intense, too surcharged with aim
and energy, to easily understand
the secret of a religion born and
nourished amid the calm of Syrian
fields and the silence of Syrian
hills. Not that I attribute mysteri-
ous qualities to the Holy Land it-
self; I do not; I have declared to
40
myself, since reaching this simple
hamlet, leaving behind me the
clamor of tourist-sated Jerusalem,
that Jesus could not have come to
knowledge of God's Fatherhood at
Jerusalem as He did at Nazareth;
better might I say, — lest I seem
irreverently to set limits to the Al-
mighty's power, — Jesus was far
less likely to have reached His full
soul-effulgence among the sordid
distractions of a city than amid the
calming solitude of flower -sown
valleys and rugged mountain-
altars.
Here I sit, dear friend of my child-
hood and confidant of my youth,
and I look down upon the white
walls and open roofs of Nazareth
Town, and recall the gem-like life
which once nestled here, reflecting
back to God a greater brilliancy
than was returned to their Maker
by the stars, in the pure setting of
a clear Syrian midnight. Here lived
Jesus through thirty peaceful
years, while Greece was grieving
41
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W>..«o>.y,i>. y&y.Pi.jpaA
amid her ruins, and Rome was
plunging to her downfall; and cui
lonot To whom the good, Thomas,
of His tireless patience, His un-
complaining endurance, His tor-
ture of body, and His agony of
soul? How much did Jesus accom-
plish? How much of the world's
destiny did He shape ? How far are
the so-called " Christian Nations "
really Christian, after the high in-
exorable standard of the prophet
of Nazareth ? How much of the Al-
truism and spiritual altitude of the
world to-day is due to that blessed
life, lived here in Nazareth? And,
on the contrary, how much of it is
involved in the irresistible unfold-
ing of the race, pushed by the will
of God, beckoned by ideals, — now
clearly and now dimly revealed to
many leaders of men?
These be vital questions, Thom-
as; but you and I have always
" marched breast-forward," hold-
ing our philosophic faith in Theism
to be even more solidly based than
42
of Nazar* tfj
our warm, grateful loyalty to that
greatest of theists, Jesus the Christ.
I cannot, in this brief letter, say all
that I would wish to say on that
theme; but I have somewhat to
say, in this letter, and in later let-
ters, upon a corollary of that the-
orem.
This, Thomas: Let me assume
that the so-called Christian world
is more pagan than we like to
admit. Let me take for granted, —
that which theologians and devout
thinkers have often conceded and
lamented, — that the influence of
Christ's life and effort has not yet
reached the fulness of fruition
which it deserves; then arises the
question "what is the reason for
this failure?" This I ask myself,
here in Palestine, more earnestly
than I asked it in America or Eu-
rope. What did Jesus try to do?
How far was He successful? And
why has His success, — at least at
present, — been no greater?
(Here I must close this letter; I
43
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$& JS £$ vV?
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3Hp COprn
have just been summoned by a
brown-faced, bare-legged boy,, clad
only in one long gray garment, to
meet a learned Russian pilgrim,
who is awaiting me at the Hos-
pice.)
44
SlSSlSSlSHSSSlSSlKlSSSlSSlSlSSSlSlSSSiSlSlS^SSlS
®.
SIXTH LETTER
Nazareth,
On the Hill-Top.
MY DEAR THOMAS —Here,
upon this rounded, rocky
hill, above the white-walled
village, I feel my soul lulled and
stirred, in turn, by the tides of the
spirit ; at one moment, a soft brood-
ing peace is wafted to my senses by
the serenity of the landscape, yet
my heart quickens, anon, as each
hill and valley seems to respond to
my glance with a swift, glad mes-
sage, "His eyes rested on me, on
me." Is it only my fancy that
under that penetrating yet tender
glance of the Master, fertile Es-
draelon, at the south, must have
quickened into responsive life, and
at the far north, proud Hermon,
clad in pure samite, shone with a
splendor before unknown?
Continuing, however, the thread
of thought which I broke off so
abruptly, yesterday, I wish to
45
.
.
&m*t
speak of what I have come to call
more and more confidently "The
Secret of Jesus," or "The Open
Secret of Nazareth."
The simplicity of this Syrian life,
— both in village and open country,
— makes a deep impression upon
me; and, as I try to penetrate the
meaning of Christ's message, and
seek a sufficient cause for its slow
advance in the world, I return, re-
peatedly, to this primitive mode of
human life ; and I feel that only in
simplicity of human living can that
revelation be understood which in
such utter simplicity was conceived
and affirmed. Men have tried, again
and again, to break away from the
complexity, the artificiality which
has always dogged human foot-
steps, and has throttled the child-
nature in the advancing race ; Will-
iam Morris, and your grandfather
at the Brook Farm, and scores of
names which I might cite, were all
seeking to escape the thraldom of
material luxuries. The great Aure-
46
.•Ui*.
B*HSZ52252S252SH525HSHSHSES2S25H5
lius declared that life might be
nobly lived, even in a palace; so
may life be simply lived even amid
the labor-saving and space-annihi-
lating inventions of Europe and
America; but the simple life, it
must be admitted, under such con-
ditions, is extremely difficult; al-
though complexity carries at its
heart simplicity, yet the outer husk
is tough, and the kernel will come
to our children only after years of
effort.
Out of the simplicity of this open-
air Eastern life was the Christian
religion born; and simple that re-
ligion must always remain, wher-
ever taught or practised, else it
vanishes. I am reminded, as I
glance down over the village-life
beneath me, of those pictures by
Cranach, which played such an im-
portant part in the reform insti-
tuted by Luther ; the painter placed
his pictures in pairs ; each pair was
composed of a scene from the plain
life which Jesus and his disciples
fl&jmt &*tutt at
must have lived, and a scene from
the luxurious, arrogant life of the
Church's leaders in Cranach's time ;
the contrast was an unanswerable
indictment of the official Christian-
ity of Europe in the sixteenth cen-
tury.
A similar condemning contradic-
tion confronts me here, as I place
this simple Syrian life, in my
thought, in contrast with the great-
er part of the ecclesiastical life, —
Protestant, Greek, and Roman, —
in Europe and America, to-day.
This life has remained what it was
when our Master shared it ; where-
as the recognized church-life of the
great Western World stumbles
among pitfalls of worldly luxury,
and strangles itself with cords of
theological complexity.
Do not put me down, dear Thomas,
as a misanthrope; for you know
well that I am not that ; but receive
my thoughts hospitably, as of old,
and perhaps we may come nearer
to what I now call, with increas-
48
»' a
w ra
ing confidence, "The Open Secret
of Nazareth." Do not think of me
as carping, enviously, even for a
moment; for the Nazareth light
is scattering the gloom which de-
scended upon me at Jerusalem ; and
the Truth which I am coming to
"know," is "setting me free."
What I mean to convey, when I
seem to be inveighing against the
complicated soul-suicidal life of
Europe is this; — I would not stay
the hand of industry, nor blind the
eye of invention and discovery; I
would not urge men to hark back
to the days of cave-life and un-
cooked food; it is not what men
gain, but the way in which they
gain it, — that is the most important
factor; it is not what they do, but
the spirit in which they do it, — that
is the element vital to the Christian
life, and is the element which is
more imperilled by the complex life
of Europe and America than by
the simpler life of Nazareth.
It was one of Walter Pater's rare
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sympathetic insights which made
him, — in "Marius the Epicurean,"
I believe, — depict certain proud
ladies of luxurious Roman palaces,
when they embraced the faith of
the Nazarene, as experiencing a
revolution in their attitude toward
the simple life involved in the con-
ditions of the despised sect; they
revolted against the complexity of
their former life, and instinctively
turned with longing to a kind which
was more elemental.
But to return to the point where
I broke off in my last letter.
I have my Bible, lying beside me
here on the rock ; and the book and
the rock seem alike to hold their
one secret in common; if the rock
could tell all that it has seen and
heard, or if the sacred volume could
yield up its treasure of spiritual
truth, then we would know, far bet-
ter than we do, the purpose of God
concerning His children, through
the revelation of Him whom we
call "Our Lord."
50
As I read, and read again, dear
Thomas, the fragments of biogra-
phy which the gospels hold, and
as I reflect on the words of our
Lord, — all too meagrely recorded,
and inadequately reported, — I am
convinced that His life of teaching,
—considering that apart from His
life of ministering to sorrow and
suffering, — was a continuous effort
to impart a secret. I believe that
"The secret of the Most High"
dwelt with Him ; and His one great
effort, so far as He appealed to the
minds, the intellects of men, was to
convey to them what God had first
conveyed to Him.
In this respect Jesus differed
from most of the religious teachers
of the world ; the priests of Isis, the
devotees of the Greek "Mysteries,"
and most religions and religious
leaders have been esoteric in their
cults; they have named hard con-
ditions with which their neophytes
must comply ; they have been indif-
ferent to the wish or need of the
51
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a & » s*
multitude; they have even sought
to hide their treasures from the vul-
gar eye and ear. But how different
was the method of Jesus! He of-
fered his secret, without reserva-
tion; He aimed at giving what He
had, without money and without
price.
But, alas, He could not impart it ;
to but few, at the best; that is the
sad reflection which haunts me as
I turn the pages of the gospels.
' ' He that hath ears to hear, let him
hear!" That was the sorrowful ca-
dence, in a minor key, which closed
so many of His joyful messages
of inspiring truth. Evidently He
sought to tell the people something
which God had told Him; and the
humble Aramaic tongue was in-
adequate ; as would have been, also,
the most highly differentiated lan-
guage of Demosthenes, or Cicero, or
Sainte-Beuve. Among the prophets
of Israel who preceded our Lord I
do not recall one who seemed so
eager to impart, yet so baffled in his
52
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•-'• ?
SSSS^
attempts to make clear His mes-
sage; Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Hosea,
and the Isaiahs, all felt the bur-
den of sin which they struggled
against; but their difficulty was in
the flaunting iniquity or sullen in-
ertia of the people, rather than in
the people's mental and spiritual
blindness; hence the prophets of
ancient Israel offer but rarely that
touching plaint of baffled sympa-
thy, "He that hath ears to hear, let
him hear!"
This is the point which I urge,
Thomas, as I read my Bible, here
in the light of a Syrian sun, and as
I interweave, with my reading,
glances at Nazareth and Mount Ta-
bor, and at snowy Hermon in the
far north, — that our Blessed Lord
and Divine Teacher was exoteric
and not esoteric, in His mind and
method. That is not a wholly new
truth to me; I remember when I
first vaguely grasped it; you have
not forgotten that strange man,
Mohini, the Brahmin from India,
Kjl
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and our conference with him at
Mrs. W 's, in Boston. You re-
member how subtle was his charm
and how fine were his mental proc-
esses; but you probably do not re-
call, as clearly as do I, what was
his reply when I asked why he did
not promulgate his beautiful en-
nobling ideas among the people at
large.
His brief answer was, — made with
calm, luminous eyes and softly
modulated speech, — "Why should
I?"
Ah, Thomas, there was the eso-
teric mystic speaking. That was
the point where he departed, essen-
tially, from the World's Greatest
Teacher, Jesus of Nazareth; "Why
should he ?" and why should Jesus ?
And why indeed did Jesus seek to
bring His secret to all, to even the
humblest, — the humblest according
to the egotistic world's standards!
It was because "the Spirit of God
was upon Him," and compelled
Him to expression. The fire, which
54,
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God had kindled upon the altar of
His heart, enlightened and quick-
ened not only His own nature, but
shone forth through the shutterless
windows of His pure soul, radiat-
ing light and life to all about Him.
Therefore it was predetermined,
when He sent His apostles forth on
their mission, that His exoteric com-
mand should be world-wide in its
scope. "Go ye into all the world,' '.
He said, "and preach the gospel to
every creature !" Ah, the esoteric'
teachers and adepts of the world
never "spake as this man spake.",
There were the Quietists, for ex-
ample ; from famous Molinos down
to the weakest and least renowned,
they failed to exemplify the atti-
tude of Jesus; they were esoteric,
egoistic; and, in being that, they
were but partially Christian.
Jesus had a secret which He fer-
vently sought to impart; and the
fallibility of human speech was not
His only barrier; if He had been
a jurist, He might easily have im-
55
Qttf* GDpwt l&rrrt nf £fear*tlf
parted statute after statute, and
the world would have held one more
Code, to add to the great codes of
Justinian and Napoleon.
If our Lord had been simply a
great theologian or moralist, — as
many of His loving but mistaken
expounders have understood Him
to be, — His teachings could have
been conveyed as easily as those of
Hillel and Schammai, and could
have been learned by rote through-
out the world. But He was a poet
and a seer; and His Secret was
deeper than any which was ever
taught in Sanscrit or Greek, in
Arabic or English ; it lay in a field
deeper and more inaccessible than
the fields cultivated by Confucius
or Pythagoras or Sakya Mouni.
Little wonder, then, that He strug-
gled, with but partial success, to
impart that Secret to all who would
listen.
At this moment, Thomas, there
flits across my mind the recollec-
tion of an incident far back in our
56
SI SS
VJX fjj
.V^, V
joint Sunday-School life ; probably
you have forgotten it ; but I remem-
ber distinctly, — perhaps because
of the shock it gave me, — a ques-
tion which you asked the solemn,
be-spectacled, theological student
whom we had for teacher, one year.
We were reading about the laws
given to Moses, written upon the
tables of stone by the finger of God ;
and you calmly and honestly in-
quired if God wrote those laws in
Hebrew, and if He could have writ-
ten them in Greek or Assyrian. A
proper question, certainly, but it
startled me, as it did the student-
teacher.
Perhaps it is only a maturer ex-
pression of the same inquiry to
which I am moved as I here ask
myself, "What was the means of
communication, yes, what was the
mystic language by which the Al-
mighty conveyed to His Chosen
Son, — here perhaps on this very
hill-top, — messages of Infinite
Love and of Eternal Truth?"
57
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My thought, as I think aloud,
freely before you, my old and tried
friend, runs thus; — that as cosmic
ether underlies our earth's atmos-
phere, so the ether of God's spirit
underlies all language, — not only
spoken and written language, but
thought language as well; and
through that rare medium came
God's message to the young proph-
et; it came as the light vibrations
come through the vast void of the
empyrean, in darkness and mystery,
becoming light and light-bearing
only when they touch our earth and
its envelope of air. Thus the Al-
mighty Father spoke to Jesus the
Christ; and to Jesus the message
was clear ; but ah, how to translate
it into the vocables of human lan-
guage!
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SEVENTH LETTER
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Nazareth,
Casa Nuova Hospice.
MY DEAE THOMAS —I look
from my window, here on
the eastern side of this gray
old monastery, and gaze upon the
primitive life of the village ; across
the narrow street, in a carpenter's
shop, a man and a boy are working,
with quaint, simple tools, quite in
•flip fiprlafp -filial wav in whir>Ti TTp
the sedate, filial way in which He
must have worked with His father
Joseph.
Just beyond the level sky-line of
the flat-roofed house opposite me
I see a small caravan of Bedouin
Arabs drawing near the village
gate, coming to barter sheep and
goats for the simple necessaries
of their nomadic life. Picturesque
creatures are those Arabs ; many a
dignified old sheikh have I seen,
with gray beard and deep-set eyes,
who might well represent one of the
Old Testament patriarchs. I am
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glad that we have such pictures as
Tissot has given us, to correct the
falsities of the classic painters ; the
German artist painted persons and
places in Germany; the Italian
painted those of Italy; the Dutch
painted life in the Low Countries ;
and each offered his work as an
illustration of the life, physical and
social, which Jesus lived in the
Holy Land; but the world's steady
march toward truth demands, to-
day, the more truthful portrayal of
Palestine and the human condi-
tions there found.
However, I stop my musing and
take up the thread of my real mes-
sage to you, Thomas. I must con-
vey to you, as clearly as I may,
in writing, my sense of the aim
of Christ's living and teaching in
this land of Palestine. I feel my-
self to be close to Him, — my Mas-
ter, here in undisturbed primitive
Nazareth; yes, my fancy so buds
and blossoms, that as I gaze, in a
day-dream, down over these lanes
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and alleys, I would not be greatly
surprised to see Him, Him, — the
centre of my soul's devotion, —
«/
moving, in serenity and sympathy,
along the narrow street beneath
my window, with throngs about
Him, and the children clinging to
His hands. If only . . . But stop!
There comes a man, — a village ar-
tizan, I judge, by his dress, — who
might well be Simon Peter him-
self, so firm is his stride, so self-
reliant the poise of his bare, griz-
zled head, so bold the glance of his
eye. I can see plainly the features
of his weather-beaten face. Surely
such a man was " Bar-jona" him-
his hands are knotted and
stained with toil, yet his heart, —
ah, how difficult for me to read the
character of the inner man! How
unable am I to see through the
mask of the flesh, as He saw, who
"knew what was in man." It was
such a human figure as this, —
strong, uncouth, intrepid, passion-
ate, elemental, that our Divine
self;
61
®lp ODjmt &*roi af -Btetrrtlj
Lord looked upon, nay looked into,
and called into intensest life the
slumbering divine element hidden
beneath so rugged an envelope.
For, later, it was nothing less than
a breath of the Almighty Himself
which spoke through the passion-
ate tribute of aroused Peter to his
beloved Master, "Thou are the
Christ, the Son of the Living God."
That was the quickening power
which our Blessed Lord exercised
over many rough and even sordid
lives, evoking the divine from the
o .
human, summoning men from the
death of monotonous, stupefying
routine to the intense life of the
present Holy Spirit of God.
But alas, all that was so long, so
very long ago ! Oh, Thomas, if only
the Almighty One, who creates and
governs the mysterious current of
Time, would deign to reverse that
current, would summon the Past
and bid it stand as a substitute for
the Present, — for one brief mo-
ment, that mine eyes might behold
62
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Him, my beloved Master, I know
that I would see Him, not as "un-
lovely, like a root out of dry
ground," but I would see Him
in His glory, and I would cry,
"Enough! Mine eyes have seen thy
salvation; now let thy servant de-
part in peace!"
Ah, Thomas, dear friend, I know
you so well that I can see the smile
with which you read that outburst.
Yet the smile does not wound me,
for I know the gentle, tender sym-
pathy which you can feel for a tem-
perament less reasonably consist-
ent than your own.
CJ/-k T Trr-ill n •*%/•»«!*• n-t- f\in nn /-v-P -n-rK o 4- T
So I will speak at once of what I
call "The Open Secret of Naza-
reth." I will try to state what
Jesus seems to me to have striven
to impart, here in this village, and
by the sea of Galilee, yonder, and
at Jerusalem, lordly in her servi-
tude, and dreaming of a temporal
glory which never came.
The vital teaching of our Master
is to be found, I believe, in His
of
parables. I will leave as wide a mar-
gin as even you, doubting Thomas,
would wish, for distrust concern-
ing accuracy of translation and au-
thenticity of tradition; and I then
have no hesitation in saying that
the fundamental teaching of Jesus,
— His "Open Secret," if I may so
call it, — is to be found in His para-
bles; many of His sayings which
are handed down to us. Those, for
j
example, comprised in what we call
"The Sermon on the Mount" are
the outbursts of a passionate poet
and prophet; they are the spon-
taneous emotional utterances of a
mystical nature, filled with the
sense of Fatherhood and Brother-
hood ; and, although they have come
down to us in a form which gives
them the appearance of didactic
intention, they are not the words of
Jesus the Teacher as much as of
Jesus the Poet, the Mystic, the rapt
lover of Divine Beauty.
The one oft-repeated message of
His life, consistent with itself and
64
harmonious with the inner continu-
ous love of His life, was contained
in the parables.
In the standard books on this sub-
ject you will find various classifica-
tions of those significant utterances
of Jesus; but I place little confi-
dence in such cut-and-dried group-
ings. Rather do I see, in more than
half of the thirty recorded para-
bles, the earnest attempt on the
part of Jesus to tell His secret;
and that secret was called by Him
"The Kingdom of Heaven, " or
" The Kingdom of God. "
By this, — if I may dare to say or
even think that I have read His
words with an understanding heart,
—by the "Kingdom of Heaven"
He meant no outward social order,
no political re-grouping of human
beings, no revolt against Imperial
Rome and the raising of a new na-
tional banner; but it was an inner
condition of each individual man
and woman.
You are not surprised at that,
of
Thomas ; and I hear you say, frank-
ly, "This is nothing new, Barti-
metis; others have said it."
True ! But let me specify more ex-
actly, step by step. This kingdom, I
repeat, is not outward but inward;
not of matter and material objects,
but of the spirit. Very good ; but of
what part of the spirit ? What ele-
ment of subjective human life is
the essential one ?
Not the purely intellectual; not
the mental, ultimately. For correct
thinking about God and our fellow-
men does not lie at the root of
Christ's message; and, as I write
that, I recall the Church Councils
and Synods, the hair-splitting spec-
ulations of theologians, and the
cries of agonized human lips on
the rack or at the stake. All that
zealous, cruel effort to direct the in-
tellectual conclusions of men con-
cerning the religion of Christ, all
that frenzy for creeds was misap-
plied and was born of spiritual
ignorance.
66
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Again, emotion, even the highest
kind, like that in penitence or as-
piration, was not the end sought by
Jesus the prophet-teacher; and I
recall the waves of enthusiasm and
the tides of fanaticism which have
swept over Christendom, since our
era begun ; they were misconceived,
Thomas, and were but indirectly
related to the Master whose gospel
they sought to advance.
No, Thomas, it was not man's
thought nor his emotions, — but it
was man's will that Jesus sought
to convert; and His "Secret" was
simply this: that a human being
should will what God wills; this
was the kernel of the message
brought to man by that Holy One,
whose "meat it was to do His
Father's WiU."
By direct revelation from above
did Jesus, the great Son of God,
learn that God's Will, streaming
ceaselessly through the universe, is
a force which moves always toward
The Best"; and "The Best," in
67
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the physical universe, is man ; and
"
The Best," in man's life, is Love;
Jesus yielded to the sweet compul-
sion from His Father ; He put Him-
self "In tune with the Infinite," as
has been well said by some, and He
willed good toward the men and
women and children about Him.
Possibly, my dear Thomas, this
exposition, thus briefly made, seems
to you all too simple. Be patient!
And open-minded, — as always!
And let me unfold and explain.
Perhaps there is more in it than
you realize; perhaps the "Open
Secret" is more elusive than you
think; and perhaps, for that rea-
son, the Great Teacher Himself
found difficulty in imparting it,
and used the many parables which
we have on record.
Even Eenan, — who ought to ap-
peal to you, Thomas, more than he
does to others of us, — even the
famous and acute French scholar
and thinker, in his steps of investi-
gation and analysis of "The Life
68
BjESHSHSeSESHSHSHESffiffiaS^
Sttp ODpwt &m?t of Nazarrtlf
of Jesus," falls short of the ulti-
mate insight; he halts at the most
important step. I have his charm-
ing "Vie de Jesus" here beside me,
and I find him summing up the
teaching of Jesus in this way:
"Jesus often declares that the
Kingdom of God has already com-
menced, that every man carries it
in himself, and may, if he be
worthy, enjoy it; that each creates
this kingdom quietly by the true
conversion of the heart. The King-
dom of God," continues Renan,
"is then only the good, an order
of things better than that which
already exists; the reign of jus-
tice, which the faithful, each ac-
cording to his ability, should aid to
forward; or, again, the liberty of
the soul, something analogous to
the Buddhist * Deliverance/ the
fruit of freedom."
All of which, Thomas, is clumsy
and shallow, as an insight into
Christ's "Open Secret"; Renan
only half understands the prophet
69
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of God whom he tried, earnestly,
lovingly, — yet often condescend-
ingly,— to explain to the world.
Renan's grasp on Christ's "idea"
is loose; his comprehension is
vague; he sees that Jesus was an
idealist, and therefore assumes
that he aimed to establish an ideal
social order; when, in truth, Jesus
aimed at the individual and not at
the group. Eenan sees that Jesus
mentioned ' ' The Good, ' ' but has not
perceived that "The Good," as con-
ceived by the Greeks and others, is
merely static ; whereas Jesus aimed
at no static abstraction, but aimed
to direct that active, urgent element
in human character, which is
known as the will ; Jesus sought, —
not "The Good," as Greece under-
stood it, which is a mere inert con-
dition, and a threatening stagna-
tion; but He proclaimed "The
Good Will" — which is active,—
ceaselessly constructive, — revolu-
tionary,— and evolutionary.
The human will is as difficult of
70
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'definition as anything I know in
the world ; you and I gained much,
Thomas, last winter, when we read
Dr. William James's thoughtful
work on that subject; but, in the
last analysis, the will defies cate-
gorical definition, does it not ? It is
a living thing, like a strain of music
or a flame; the piano wire which
stands back of the strain of music,
and the candle-wick which stands
back of the flame, are things, ma-
terial objects, continuously exist-
ent through seconds and minutes,
whether or not the music sounds or
the flame ascends; but the music
and the flame themselves are exist-
ent only in action ; if they cease to
"do," they die, they are not; so
with the human will ; it lives, only
as it acts ; it "is," only as it does.
This is the subtle, elusive centre
of the individual human life, which
Jesus aimed to reach ; He sought to
make it act as the will of God acts,
toward the progress of mankind, in
widening circles of well-being.
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Say not, doubting Thomas, that
this is simple, all too simple. For
I assert that the Christian Church
has almost continuously overlooked
it; the ideal Christ of the Church
has nearly always been conceived as
a passive Christ, as a person endur-
ing and suffering patiently. Nearly
all the paintings and the poems and
the prayers of the Christian ages
have assumed or directly upheld
this negative ideal ; they have mis-
understood the "idea" of Jesus;
and His parables about the pearl of
great price, the leaven, the mus-
tard-seed, and a score of others, —
which, when they were uttered, fell
on ears that could not hear, — have
been read, since His day, by eyes
that could not see.
But I must not weary you ; and I
somewhat hastily finish this letter,
as the shadows of the evening sift
into this peaceful little valley, and
lighted candles glimmer in the
doorways of many of the white-
walled houses.
72 &
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EIGHTH LETTER
Mary's Well,
Nazareth.
Y DEAR THOMAS— i have
just come from the village
fountain, at the eastern end
of the town, where I have been
watching, with profound interest,
the wives, mothers, and daughters
of the village, drawing water and
gossiping, precisely as they must
have acted in the olden times. There
is no reason to doubt but that the
women of Jesus' family came hith-
er and chatted and laughed.
The Syrian costume, with its flow-
ing drapery and bright head-dress,
is striking and attractive. When I
was at Bethlehem I was told that
the women-folk there were famed
for their beauty, which had descend-
ed to them from intermarriages of
their ancestors with Crusaders ; the
head-dress of the women at Bethle-
hem is- singularly ornamental, and
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I think it has added materially to
the charms of its wearers, and
tourists have hastily ascribed more
to the faces themselves than was
due them; but my own judgment
is that the women of Nazareth are
quite as beautiful as those of Beth-
lehem.
Dr. Selah Merrill, our American
Consul at Jerusalem, who speaks
with authority, told me that he be-
lieved that the mental and moral
quality of the Nazareth villagers
was at least as high in the time
of Christ as now, and probably
higher; so that, as I silently stud-
ied the faces and gestures of the
women at the fountain, I felt justi-
fied in my tender fancies and senti-
ments toward them and their an-
cestors. As to the well itself, there
is no reasonable doubt whatever
about its identity. The village has
now, — and must always have had,
— this one source of water-supply.
So that I felt myself to be very
near the Sacred Past, as I gazed
74
and mused; and I can take up my
letter to you with earnestness and
sympathy.
If I remember correctly, I said,
last of all, that "The Secret of
Nazareth," the "Message" of
Jesus, was that each man and wom-
an must will good toward God and
toward man. In the elusiveness of
the element of the human will, in its
difficulty of definition, — especially
among simple people who lived in
this primitive land two thousand
years ago, — in this lay the diffi-
culty for the Great Teacher, of dis-
closing His secret. Not only was
their experience limited, as listen-
ers, and their vocabulary meagre,
but His own knowledge of His own
great truth was probably His, — not
in abstract form, not as a philo-
sophic formula, but as a method of
life, a rhythmic theme of human
daily intercourse, subject to limit-
less variations ; He usually stated it
picturesquely, in trope and story,
after the Eastern fashion; when
75
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(Iff? 03 pnt *crr?t of Nazarrtlf
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He sought to use His briefest form
of statement, He said, "It is within
you, — this kingdom, this reign of
love." The very Greek word, Basi-
leia, kingdom, carries the idea of
force rather than of passive condi-
tion ; yet Jesus, when He sought to
specify what part of the "within
you" He meant, always broke out
with fancy and imagery; — "The
kingdom of heaven is ... is like
unto . . ."
One of the difficulties in the way
of our Western minds' understand-
ing the active transforming ele-
ment involved in Christ's exalta-
tion of the will is that the words
"Good-will," have come, through
popular usage, to have a mild neu-
tral flavor of insipid acquiescence.
Therefore, Thomas, I charge you,
as you read, and whenever you
read, from this point on, in these
letters, the words * ' Good Will, ' ' un-
derstand them to mean the most
active, insistent element in human
character; and that is precisely
76
(®jmi &m*i
what Jesus sought to convey, by
"The Pearl of Great Price," "The
Leaven," and other fanciful ex-
pressions. In order for us to under-
stand the dynamic quality of the
"Open Secret of Nazareth" we who
speak the English language must
first de-polarize our words "will,"
"good will," "willing," and sim-
ilar terms. I can recall a shiftless
farmer of New Hampshire who
often worked for his thriftier
neighbors, — among them my grand-
father; the inefficient fellow was
always optimistic and noisily de-
vout; and he was frequently de-
scribed by others as "willing";
which meant, — in the New England
vernacular, — even-tempered, and
acquiescent in all commands given
Mm.
Thus the word "willing" was used
to mean the extreme opposite of its
literal signification; it was trans-
ferred from its proper sense of ac-
tivity, energy, to inert compliance
and passivity.
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In a similar way, most of us fre-
quently say, "I am willing," when
we by no means use the root "will"
in its real meaning ; for, as we use
the phrase, we express no effort of
will, but instead, entire absence of
will, mild concession or compliance.
Thus I seek to make clear the true
etymological meaning of the word
"will," in order that you and I
may better understand the depth
of the "Good-Will" message which
Jesus bore to the world, and that
we may the more surely "have ears
to hear" what He sought to impart.
Had Count Tolstoi penetrated to
the centre of Christ's Secret he
would never have affirmed his doc-
trine of "Non-Resistance," as a
characteristic teaching of Jesus;
for Jesus did not teach, and did not
exemplify in His life, that innocu-
ous negation ; there are three possi-
ble attitudes, Thomas, toward the
man who does you harm, as by
theft or physical force: first, you
may retaliate upon your enemy
78
* tt
with conduct similar to Ms own ; or,
second, — what Tolstoi sees, — you
may dumbly and unresistingly sub-
mit ; and, third, — what Tolstoi does
not see, — you may return to him
love for hate, benefit for injury,
good-will for ill-will. This is the
high aggressive level of the Holy
Spirit of God, whereon Jesus stood ;
and any interpretation of His glori-
ous gospel or His marvellous life,
which makes Him negative and
submissive solely, but lamely ex-
presses His high and holy nature.
When I looked upon that singu-
lar drama, "The Passion Play of
Oberammagau," I was disappoint-
ed, for a time, in the character of
"Christus." But afterward, on re-
flection, I saw that the " Play" gave
only one element of Christ's char-
acter, and gave that excellently, —
namely, the " Passion," the sub-
missive situations in His experi-
ence; while the dominating note,
the vital element in that divine life,
was quite disregarded, or barely.
79
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hinted at, as in the temple-scene
with the money-changers.
Therefore, Thomas, I write with
conviction and sympathy as I tell
you that in coming to Nazareth I
have been led into the light ; I dare
affirm that Jesus sounded the depth
of human nature when he aimed
to bring the human will into har-
mony with the Divine Will ; indeed,
shall we not say that when the Hu-
man Will wills good toward God
and Man, it becomes one with the
Divine Force which permeates and
sustains and ever re-creates the
universe; we speak of " Force"
when we explain the physical phe-
nomena,— gravitation, heat, elec-
tricity, and others; but it is all a
part of the Divine "Will." That
force which we know most directly,
because a part of ourselves, we call
"Will." Let that same word be
applied to the movements of
the "Not-Ourselves" as well; to
the organic and inorganic world
around us! Our springs of action
80
reveal those of our Maker; our
"Will': explains His WiU; the
brutes also will and act, and there-
fore manifest God, in some degree ;
but their acts are on a lower plane
than ours; and they less manifest
the Divine Will ; at the moment of
human unselfishness, at the point
of human will-action for benefi-
cence, God comes most fully to
Himself, and is re-incarnated. If
you will look closely at the Greek
of the significant passage in St.
John's Gospel, — the seventh chap-
ter, the seventeenth verse, — you
will see that the more exact render-
ing of our Lord's profound words
bears me out in my interpreta-
tion. For the original text evi-
dently read, — not "If any man will
do His will, he shall know of the
doctrine," but "If any man willeth
to do His will, he shall know of
the doctrine." There is a change of
only a word or two, but the chasm
between the renderings is wide and
deep; the true rendering empha-
81
efjr (Jfyrn ^rrrrt of
sizes the inner life rather than the
outer; and it is in harmony with
Christ's other affirmations concern-
ing the hidden subjective act and
life, as more significant and essen-
tial than is the visible objective
life.
And that principle is the ideal of
conduct for all individuals and
groups of individuals. Moreover, it
is a realizable ideal; such realiza-
tion may be far in the future, but
the world does move toward it.
Just here, Thomas, I seem to hear
you protest ; and if we were talking
together, face to face, I think you
would call my attention to the
courts of justice and prisons, and
other penal machinery of our day.
But I am not at all staggered by
such a challenge; I still maintain
that the blessed "Good-Will" prin-
ciple would work its way toward
just and beneficent results, even
among the idle, the incompetent,
and even the persistently vicious
classes. The analogy to which I
82
point you is that of the family ; the
principle which I urge, — receiving
it from Jesus, — is the current of
loving will which streams from the
true brother or parent, the world
over, toward the wayward brother
or the wandering son. The true
father is not he who meekly yields
to every wish of the child whom he
loves; but often he imposes penal-
ties, he even inflicts pain, — suffer-
ing, himself, in the doing it, — in
order that his child may be turned
from vicious paths.
All this might a State do toward
its delinquent citizens; we can
fancy courts and penal institu-
tions in full activity, yet all mov-
ing to their reformatory end, in an
atmosphere of sad, reluctant, yet
firm and tender action. There are
individuals, already, who adminis-
ter justice from the bench, or exe-
cute judicial commands in prisons
and reformatories, with this spirit
of good-will exhaling from every
word and act, and it is only such
83
.
individuals who ever pass beyond
the hardening, primitive position
of the old Mosaic code, and make
any real change for the better, in
the characters of either casual or
confirmed criminals.
I can see you, in my fancy, Thom-
as dear, sitting with my letter in
your hand, and your lips pressed
together, your brow furrowed,
your whole face expressing honest
dissent, — or, at least, cautious in-
quiry; but take my thought, take
this idea of "force," — beneficent if
possible, but at least benevolent,
(accomplishing good, — if possible,
—but at least aiming at good, will-
ing good), take this, and with it
test the words of Jesus, so far as
your critical judgment can accept
their authenticity! Recall, for in-
stance, the familiar words in "The
Lord's Prayer," "Thy kingdom
come, Thy will be done." Notice
the characteristic Eastern repeti-
tion of thought ; notice the identity
of ideas under change of words;
84
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God's kingdom comes, — the king-
dom of Heaven is born in any
heart, — co-incidentally with the
willing of good toward others by
that person ; which is an exercise of
force characteristic of the Heav-
enly Father. If only the word "be-
nevolence" had not suffered the
"sad sea-change" which has come
over so many of our English words,
it would adequately express the ex-
act idea urged by Jesus. To "will
good" toward all of God's crea-
tures is the kernel of Christ's
teaching.
Recall, also, dear Thomas, the mid-
night song of the angels at Bethle-
hem ! You may not follow me whole-
heartedly in my fancy, but I be-
hold in that beautiful story a
prophecy, perhaps all unconscious,
of the depth and scope of the reve-
lation of Jesus; "Peace and Good
Will to Men!" There is the happy
augury of the unfolding life of
Bethlehem's babe, sounded high
above earth, and echoing down the
RX
oo
ages. Peace at the heart of the
Christ and of every Son of God;
and, radiating from that central
peace, ceaseless energy ; at the cen-
tre of the enlightened human soul
absolute poise, like that at the cen-
tre of a revolving sphere, with mo-
tion, force, all about it, — that hu-
man force which we call "Will,"
pushing out in loving exercise to-
ward man, in sympathy and ser-
vice, and pushing upward toward
the Father, in gratitude and trust.
86
NINTH LETTER
Mount Tabor, Palestine.
DEAR THOMAS,— I have to-
day made the ascent of this
historic mountain; and I am
sitting in the shade of a gnarled
old fig-tree, half-way down the de-
scent; the sun is warm, — for the
month of April, — and the thick
shade of the foliage above me is
very grateful; blossoms have al-
ready fallen from this tree, and the
seed-vessels are not numerous; my
dragoman tells me that the fig-
blossoms much resemble tiny figs;
I wish I could have seen some of
them.
The climb has been an easy one,
and my dragoman has thoughtfully
provided refreshments; so that I
sit here and write, in comfort and
ease, with two other tourists, —
Englishmen, — a few yards away;
little do they know the thread of
my thought !
This symmetrical, bare eminence,
87
Mount Tabor, must not be con-
founded with the "Mount of Trans-
figuration"; the ecclesiastics of the
Middle Ages so confounded it.
Rather do I think that the site of
that fascinating yet elusive mysti-
cal scene was on the heights of Her-
mon, not far from Csesarea Phi-
lippi. There is no episode, in the
Scripture record, which more al-
lures, yet disappoints, me than
does that of the Transfiguration.
O Thomas, what fact, what soul-
experience, what spiritual insight
lies hidden beneath that strange, —
and probably inadequately told, —
story ? Who can say ? Sometimes I
seem to perceive the hidden truth;
and again I stand afar off, and
accept my place among the unini-
tiated.
Since I sent my last letter, Thom-
as, I have conjectured much as
to the reception, — intellectual and
spiritual, — which you would give
it. And I know the bent of your
cautious, logical mind so well that
88
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I feel sure as to your point of di-
vergence from my reflections and
convictions. I remember how we
were used, in the old days, to dis-
cuss that knotty problem of "Free-
will and Necessity," and corol-
laries. I believe that you never
quite satisfied yourself as to your
veritable freedom of will ; I, on the
contrary, reached a point where
the doubt of it no longer haunted
me.
Therefore I know that you are
saying, as you read what I write
about "beneficent willing," — or,
more exactly, by etymology, "be-
nevolence,"— that the old problem
of human ' l free-will' ' underlies this
"idea," this "Open Secret," which
I attribute to Jesus.
So be it ; but remember that your
disbelief in free-will and my belief
in it are both, probably, in some
manner, results of our diverse tem-
peraments; do not forget, old
friend, also, that you are continu-
ously and consistently acting on
89
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my theory, instead of on your own.
Moreover, I recall to you those fine
lines of Tennyson:
" Our wills are ours, we know not how,
Our wills are ours, — to make them Thine."
How admirably that statement
supports my position ! And when I
was on the steamer, Thomas, one
of my fellow-passengers loaned me
a copy of Tennyson's biography.
In one of the poet-philosopher's
letters to a friend he touches this
problem of free-will in a masterly
way. His friend has written him
some question on the subject, and
Tennyson replies that he does be-
lieve in a limited degree of freedom
of will. "We have," he says, "the
same kind of freedom which a
canary has, in its cage ; we can leap
from one perch to another, although
we cannot pass outside the wires of
our cage."
I call that an acute and illuminat-
ing illustration, Thomas ; and even
grander is the suggestion with
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which Tennyson continues; he de-
clares his belief that "God chooses
to hold His own will in abeyance,
at that point in the periphery of
His power, where man's will im-
pinges on His Divine will."
What say you to that, Thomas?
The whole universe is orderly, and
cause and effect, (physical and
mental), are everywhere operative,
except at one point, — the point in
human character which we call the
will, — indefinable yet undeniable,
tiny in scope, yet capable of revolu-
tionizing, — yes, when in harmony
with God's will, of evolutionizing
the world still further, after God
alone and unaided has brought the
world up to the level of human
birth and life and effort.
Tell me frankly, Thomas, in your
next letter, — which I shall probably
receive at Athens, if I hold to the
itinerary which you and I laid out
before I started, — tell me frankly
if you think I am justified in my
depth of feeling about this "Open
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Secret" of Jesus! I admit that I
am profoundly impressed by my
conviction, but I hope that I keep
my balance, and retain sound judg-
ment.
I am simply re-inforced in my
previous historical estimate of the
greatness of the Christ by this
my statement of the gospel He
preached. In urging the consecra-
tion of the human will to loving ser-
vice He was acting upon the prom-
ise previously revealed to Him from
above that God is forever willing
good to His children ; Jesus there-
fore sought to state the harmonious
working of man's will with God's
will. The blending, in a man, of
those two, — like the blending of
two notes of music, producing a
third, as Browning says in "Abt
Vogler," - produces that human
attitude of love, of the individual
toward his fellows, which Jesus
called "The Kingdom of Heaven."
I do not wonder, when I reflect
upon the difficulty of expressing
92
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it, that our Lord could not more
readily convey His secret to the dull
minds about Him ; but I am lost in
wonder and admiration and adora-
tion, when I consider the depth and
range of the principle which Jesus
grasped and taught.
At this point, my dear friend, I
seem to see your calm, critical face,
and to hear your dispassionate yet
earnest voice urging an objection. I
can fancy you saying, with forefin-
ger resting gently across your knee,
as of old, "You seem to confuse
the act of volition with the emotion
of love. In what relation to each
other do you understand those two
psychical phenomena to stand, as
elements of Christ's teaching? ':
My answer, Thomas, is this. The
ultimate condition or attitude into
which Jesus aimed to bring His
disciples, as regards their fellow-
men, was the attitude of love;
which is an emotion ; but the imme-
diate step which He urged, the pre-
paratory psychical condition, was
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that of the active will ; (which is a
tautological expression, you per-
ceive ; for will is essentially active ;)
the will is the one factor in a man
which can be commanded into ex-
istence directly ; it is therefore the
one factor which Jesus could urge
and exhort, in His reformation and
re-adjustment of the man himself ;
vain is any attempt to force the
emotions directly; love cannot be
commanded into activity, nor can
hate or despair be banished by any
fiat; those emotions, and all emo-
tions, rise or fall, live or die, by
laws of causation, often by sugges-
tion, but not by any imperative
laid upon them. The will, however,
is more or less emancipated from
laws of causation, it is unique, mys-
terious, uncaused, as was Pallas,
springing fully armed, from the
head of Zeus.
Listen closely, Thomas, for this
point is nearly the subtle one which
eluded many of Christ's listeners;
(and I hardly need remind you,
94
.
•.JiHHi3
dear friend, that I speak in all hu-
mility, yet as one under the com-
pulsion of truth as he sees it). That
Divine Teacher, with His profound
intuitive mind, saw, with no train-
ing from the Greek philosophers,
that the human will is the keystone
of the arch of human destiny; He
seized upon what Emmanuel Kant
afterward sought in vain to ana-
lyze and classify; and doubtless
our Lord shared, in some degree,
the wonder and awe which we, with
the great Konigsberg philosopher,
have felt in the presence of the in-
soluble "Categorical Imperative."
Again I say, the message of Jesus
was directly to the will of man, and
indirectly to man's mind and heart ;
the will was seen by the Nazarene
Prophet to be the avenue into the
man's character and conduct. If
the man could be induced to com-
mand his will (by repeated con-
crete acts of volition) into well-
wishing and well-doing, then would
become established in that man the
emotion of love toward man and
God; the man, by repeatedly "do-
ing the will" of God, that is by
definitely willing good thoughts
and deeds, would presently "learn
the doctrine," — the teaching, — of
Jesus; and the great "Secret"
would no longer remain a secret.
Another matter, suggested by this
line of reflection. As I pause in my
writing, there comes to me the rec-
ollection of that discussion of ours,
not long before I sailed. It was
on "Monism versus Dualism," as
the formula of the universe. The
subject was much in vogue among
clergymen and Doctors of Divinity,
I was told ; I wonder how they have
settled it. This was the crux of the
matter, was it not? Is human per-
sonality,— or, to put it more simply
and effectively, each for himself, —
is my personality an entity of it-
self? Or is there another personal-
ity, or are there other personalities,
in the universe? Is the universe
philosophically resoluble, — like the
96
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seventy odd physical elements, —
into three or four elements, or into
two, or even into one ?
That problem, being a problem of
individuality, or personality, is a
problem of the will; which, — and
not the intellect or the emotions, —
is the foundation of personality.
And does not this "Open Secret of
Nazareth" bear directly and illu-
minatingly upon that problem? Is
not the foundation-truth of our life
the truth, — not of "Being," but of
"Becoming"1* Is not the key to the
riddle of the Sphinx, — "Action,"
and not "Rest"? Do not Monism
and Dualism, — yes and Pantheism,
— dissolve in the re-agent "force"?
All three of them are "states" only,
and cannot serve as formulae for
life, which is, — action, energy.
Therefore I say that the world of
God and Man, — for that is the
whole world, these two divide all
existence between them, — the one
only universe, the world of spirit,
is a Dualism which is ceaselessly
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seeking to ~become a Monism; and
it will forever seek it, through all
eternity; the progression is an in-
finite series; man will approach
God, through repeated will-acts,
forever and ever; he will approxi-
mate, in beatific destiny, to Deity,
yet will never become identical
with Deity. The "Flying Goal" of
Emerson is the Monism; the ave-
nue of advance toward it is the path
of Dualism.
All this Jesus must have seen,
Thomas, walking upon these Syrian
hillsides, and communing with God.
How my heart goes out in sympa-
thy and reverence for Him! Most
of His hearers had not "the ears
to hear"; they must have felt the
warm, life-giving current of His
will, as it was indicated by His
sweet smile, His gentle voice, His
tender eyes, bestowing blessings
on all whom He met. They could not
grasp all His teaching, much as
they loved to listen to His persua-
sive words; but they loved Him,
98
and mourned His death, I know,
and remembered His sayings and
His deeds. A few, His chosen ones,
grasped His meaning in part; but
not one soul on earth shared His
full thought; the neglect and soli-
tude of "The Agony in the Gar-
den" was only the momentary
outer sign and symbol of His con-
tinuous isolation from full human
fellowship.
But the sun is sinking, and I must
return to my lodgings in the monas-
tery. I must, however, wait to say
this one additional word. You know
that in America, especially, — and
less in Europe, — it has become the
fashion, among certain Biblical
critics and theological writers, to
loftily assert or assume that Jesus
"never originated anything." Such
critics point to the Golden Rule as
the nearest approach of Jesus to
originality ; and they then cite Con-
fucius and his "Do not unto others
that which you would not have
them do to you."
99
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" There!" say these critics, "you
have substantially the teaching of
Jesus of Nazareth, uttered by a
Chinese sage, thousands of years
before the Christian era."
Such a disparaging estimate of
Jesus can be held only by men who
have failed to see the exact point
which Jesus urged; the difference
between the teaching of Confucius
and the teaching of our Lord was
not simply a slight difference, as
between an affirmative and a nega-
tive; but the positive precept of
Jesus regarding our love for God
and our neighbor is as different
from the negation of Confucius as
is light from darkness, as is pleas-
ure from pain. In the Confucian
negation lies inaction, stagnation,
death. In the active principle of the
Golden Rule lies the germ of ethi-
cal and spiritual reformation and
evolution, and the guerdon of eter-
nal life.
Taking such critics on their
own ground, comparing Jesus, the
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founder of the Christian religion,
with the founders of other ethnic
religions, I dare assert that He was
the most original of all; for while
they imparted systems and codes of
ethical or theological thought, He
penetrated deeper than thought, to
will, the centre of all personality,
divine or human ; and He aimed to
modify human wills, and direct
them to action which should be in
harmony with the will of God.
Further, Thomas, if I read aright
the Scripture record, our Lord ex-
emplified unconsciously, in word
and glance and touch, the selfsame
principle which He so earnestly
tried to teach ; I mean that His own
poised, insistent will seems to have
made a profound impression on
all whom He met. You remember,
perhaps, that incident early in Na-
poleon Bonaparte's life, where he
entered the hall of the Directory.
He had not yet had opportunity to
exhibit his full baneful power ; but,
as he entered, all eyes were turned
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critically upon him; he uttered no
word, he gave no physical sign ; but
one of the leaders whispered to his
neighbor, "I think we have found
our master." There was some in-
stant mysterious revelation of
•r
Bonaparte's power which went
straight to the hearts of those ob-
servers.
Some such mysterious impress of
our Lord's powerful personality
must have reached all who met
Him; although, of course, I need
hardly add, in explanation, that
whereas the Corsican tyrant's power
was egotistic, centripetal, the power
of Jesus was centrifugal, benefi-
cent. It was this subtle impression
of His will which made listeners
exclaim, "This man speaks with
authority, and not as the scribes."
There! The shadows deepen, the
red sun is quite out of sight below
the hills, and I must hasten, or I
shall find the rough road back to
Nazareth Town made even rougher
and more difficult by the darkness.
102
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fflZSHii
TENTH LETTER
Naples, Italy.
MY DEAR THOMAS— Several
weeks have elapsed since I
wrote my last letter from
the Holy Land; I have sent you
several post-cards, in the mean-
time ; and you have been informed
of my route from Haifa to Smyrna,
Constantinople, Athens, and here
by way of Brindisi. From Naples I
shall travel by easy stages, up
through Italy and Switzerland to
France and England, and then
home.
I have been reading the letter
which you sent me, after you re-
ceived my several letters written at
Nazareth. That profound subject
of "The Open Secret of Nazareth"
still deeply interests me ; you do not
commit yourself, Thomas, to entire
agreement with my explanation of
the life and message of our Lord;
but I know that you have read, with
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sympathy, all that I have so warmly
'XJ.
written.
I note your cautious comments on
my train of reflections, and I wish
to reply to one or two of them.
You urge me to carry out my
analysis of "The Open Secret, "
the benevolent and beneficent Will-
Kingdom, — into more practical
fields; you ask how a man, — a
learned philosopher, or a humble
artisan, or a confirmed criminal, —
shall lay hold of this secret; how
shall he know what to will? And
rtl • » •
so on.
I answer, — the knowledge of what
to will varies with the age and the
individual ; it is philosophically the
"content" of this blind but active
will; it is the " variable," — to illus-
trate from mathematics, — and the
will is the constant; the two com-
bined give the curve of condition
and progress for the individual or
the race. Your question, Thomas,
is much like the old problem of
conscience, with its two elements,
Ln
104
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the "I ought," and the "What
ought I?" The "Secret" of Jesus
was assuredly a principle, — not of
thinking or feeling, but of doing,
of conduct; or, more inwardly, of
willing, which is the root of con-
duct. That obscure but striking
scene in the gospel, which we call
the "Last Judgment," places the
test, as between the sheep and goats,
upon conduct, not upon empty
words and idle sentiment. And I
recall that passage of the Great
Teacher's, regarding the sin of
fleshly desires: "Whoso looketh on
a woman, to lust after her, hath
committed adultery with her al-
ready, in his heart." There is the
fatal culpable act, — in the will ; for
his will man is responsible; by its
action he is to be judged, so far as
is possible.
To come to more practical ap-
plications, Thomas, I believe that
each man or woman, making his
way through the world, in humble
station or station exalted, — mak-
105
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ing it by exercise of his will, in
large strides or infinitely small
steps, — each person, at such a step,
has a choice, practically, between
two decisions, rather than among
several ; the statesman or the mer-
chant, the prince or the pauper, the
saint or the criminal, each sees a
higher and a lower at every cross-
road of his life; the criminal's
7
" higher" may be inferior to the
saint's "lower"; but to him, — the
criminal, — it is a " higher"; and
the human will, at each of these
subjective or spiritual cross-roads,
chooses its higher, that is, — puts
itself in harmony, for that moment
and that moment only, — with God ;
the door of the kingdom of heaven
is flung open on the instant, and
may close, as instantly; it lives, it
dies; "The will is dead; Live, the
will!"
As I now read over that last para-
graph, — having, in the meantime,
been called out to arrange for a
visit to Pompeii, — I fear that I am
106
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not definite enough in my exposi-
tion. I remember that you often
chaffed me, Thomas, about my ca-
pacity for "levitation" (not lev-
ity) ; so I must apply this truth of
the will to the most concrete acts.
And this is what I mean. Take my
day's actions. I arose at eight; I
looked out of the window; I noted
the line of cabs and group of cab-
men in front of the hotel ; then and
there came the choice to me of either
looking at those men unsympathet-
ically, or sympathetically; I could
dwell upon their harsh voices and
rough ways, drawing back from
them, in my will, or I could reflect
that they were seeking employ-
ment, earnestly, even anxiously, in
order to support the wife and chil-
dren whom they loved. Unconscious
of me, they joked, and brushed their
cab-cushions; but, up at the win-
dow, I was choosing, on the instant,
the world of the good-will or the
world of the ill-will, as my mo-
mentary dwelling-place.
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The same choice I made as I sat
at the breakfast table and was at-
tended by the waiter ; in my slight
conversation with him, in that
brief contact of his nature and
mine, came the opportunity for the
significant choice — of good-will
rather than ill-will ; of good- will, —
not tact merely, not simulation, but
good- will and friendliness; when I
noticed that he had forgotten the
hot water for my coffee I did not
draw back, in my spirit, letting an-
tipathy rule me, but I reminded him
gently, patiently; and I thanked
him when he corrected his omission.
Thus, throughout my day, which is
nearly gone, I could name twenty,
yes, forty points where the orbit of
my conduct has intersected the orb-
its of other human beings ; and each
time I have had an opportunity, —
great or small, important or trivial,
—to exhale the fragrance of kindli-
ness, or to surround myself with an
aura of chilling reserve, or to emit
positive hate. I fear that I have
108
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failed, yes, have sinned, repeatedly,
in these minute experiences; but
such as they are, they make up the
sum of my life, and, essentially, of
all our lives ; thus do we achieve our
multifold victories of the will, or
we suffer defeat, in the tiny arenas,
with which each day is filled.
When I look back, dear Thomas,
on my " Dream-days" (yet my
dream-days of revelation), in sim-
ple serene Nazareth, I say to my-
self, again, that only in Nazareth
and not at Jerusalem was Jesus
likely to have attained His truth of
the harmonized evolving will; for
in cities there are fewer strictly
personal forces to be encountered,
and more impersonal social codes
and legal statutes and class conven-
tions to be confronted ; if the young
prophet had dwelt, during His im-
pressionable, unfolding childhood
and youth, in the "City of David,"
He would have been less impressed
with the significance and determin-
ing power of individual human
109
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wills than at Nazareth ; in that little
Galilean village individuals were
the centres of force, and formal
class-restrictions were but slight;
in Nazareth the mystery and the
marvel of a human personality, —
and its central fountain, a will, —
this challenged the insight of Jesus,
and, when illumined from above
by the revealed light of God, the
Father, — must have unconsciously
guided Him in his path toward His
announced gospel, — which was not,
primarily, a code for groups and
masses, but a gospel for the indi-
vidual, a message to the isolated
human will.
Yesterday, an English friend, here
at the hotel, loaned me a book con-
taining excerpts from some of Glad-
stone's letters; and I had the good
fortune to find, in one, (dated Jan-
uary 21, 1844, and written to his
wife), these words — " There is a
beautiful little sentence in the
works of Charles Lamb, concerning
one who had been afflicted, — 'He
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gave his heart to the Purifier, and
his will to The Sovereign Will of
the Universe.' But there is a speech
in the third canto of the l Paradise/
7
of Dante, spoken by a certain Pis-
carda, which is a rare gem. I will
quote this one line : 'In la, sua volon-
tade e nostra pace.' " In His will
is our peace.
One other point comes to my
mind, Thomas ; that saying of Em-
erson 's which both you and I have
«, , j //Vv .
so often quoted. "Being is more
than doing." Since I have entered
upon the reflections suggested by
my visit to Nazareth, I have more
and more doubted the finality of
that doctrine of the gentle sage of
Concord. "Being" may indeed be
higher than "Doing," because "Be-
ing" is assumed to include "Do-
ing." But I seem to scent the death-
odor of a hidden "Esoteric philoso-
phy" under that phrase; and was
not Emerson deeply tinged with
the esoteric spirit of those Eastern
cults which he so loved? Was he
in
5H5ffiSi!H5H5ffi252^^
not, therefore, — as exemplified in
this phrase about " Being" and
" Doing," — somewhat at variance
with the "Secret of Jesus," which
was,— " Willing"? And was not he
sometimes at variance with the
fundamental spirit of this universe,
which is, — not any passive condi-
tion, however lofty, — but tireless,
upward-pushing energy? The in-
clusive formula, Thomas, which
will express the life of this uni-
verse, — and man and God, — must
be a formula of energy, and not of
inaction, not of a state or condition.
That was the profound perception
of Jesus; and the root of His re-
ligion of "The Consecrated Will"
pierces deeper than does the root
of any philosophy, even as the tree
of an ideal manhood towers above
the dry weeds of the world's specu-
lative systems; and it is the verita-
ble "Tree of life" in our terrestrial
Eden ; yes, it is the open door of the
kingdom of God, in the soul of each
r«J
of his children.
•
if* * •*•«/•»
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112
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